


Invitation Up

by FluffyGlitterPantsDragon



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Smutty McSmut Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 10:09:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13761885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyGlitterPantsDragon/pseuds/FluffyGlitterPantsDragon
Summary: You are a delivery woman. Lucifer is your target. Spoilers: Everyone wins.





	Invitation Up

Lucifer kisses you with a hungry passion. Firm pressure against your core makes a fiery promise on the ride up.

You aren’t entirely sure how you ended up here.

It started out innocently enough. Kind of.

The job is easy, fresh-cut flower delivery. Just you and your van until it’s time to go home. You see him from time to time in his club during the day.

A couple of months ago he started consulting for the police, according to Maze. She was always good for gossip. You spot him less and less. You got a little antsy. Stalking Lucifer is a perk of this route.

He caught your eye on your first round of deliveries out to Lux; he caught the eyes of everyone. Even from halfway across the room he’s breathtaking. He’d nodded to Maze about something, pointing out whatever. He was relaxed, his dark grey coat draped leisurely over his shoulder. Shirt not done up yet. A glimpse of tanned chest arrested you. He was tall and lean and dark. He saw you looking, smiled at you from across the room and turned back to his bartender.

You knew the rumors, but you are a delivery girl, for chrissake.

That first night you got home after work and masturbated yourself silly. He made for a lovely fantasy. Inserting someone you almost met in life was not something you normally did. This kind of stuff was reserved for Thor or Dean Winchester - you know, characters. Not actual people.

You bought a new toy with him in mind. The thought makes you blush, but it’s harmless. Someone who calls himself the Devil is more of a character than real person anyway, right?

It’s not like he’d ever know.

You weren’t the only girl who wanted that route. Luckily, Maze liked you. You were efficient, and you didn’t stop your work to ogle Lucifer. You have your excellent visual memory for that. She didn’t say it in so many words, but you get the Lux route more often than the other drivers who wanted it. 

Your plan to (strictly fantasy) stalk him is working perfectly. Aside from his new side-gig. And lack of actually meeting him. Maze had to know. She was familiar with the lust-filled look. It’s clearly something she’s used to navigating. It’s just as clear she was happy you aren’t  climbing over her to get to him or asking her to hook you up. You aren’t a heathen, after all.

Fantasy stalking was almost enough to make you want to blow your weekend sleep and college class schedule and come to the club at night when it was rolling. Rumors aside, it’s not like you have a real shot at catching him. You aren’t *really* a clubber either. And the fantasy is as much fun. You keep telling yourself. After all, it would have to do.

It was a good excuse to spend a little more time on your makeup in the morning, even if you normally loathe spending the extra 15 minutes you could be sleeping. Your friend at work notices you might have shown up in a slightly tighter fitting button up shirt that shows the outline of your bra just a little more than a darker top. She winks at you and you share a grin. You two have similar fantasies and sometimes share the route, giggling like high schoolers with a crush. Either of you would be mortified if he knew, but what the hell, it’s fun.

Today he’s here.

After weeks of craning your neck across the club floor and not finding him, he’s here today. Finally. Lucifer appears to be checking the tuning on the piano.

You grin, taking a fresh visual (ooh, new suit!) for later. You unconsciously start to run your fingers through your hair, forgetting about the practical french braid you did today. A fingernail catches. From his piano, he notices your halted action, your flicker of annoyance at yourself. He grins, amused. And you’re blushing a fiery red from hair roots to the pit of your stomach.

Then for a fraction of a second, you lock eyes across the way. He knows. You know he knows. He knows you know he knows. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

You gulp, ungently drop your first box of flowers and book it back to the van. Hooray. Four more boxes to go. Four more trips between the truck and the bar. You take a minute to make sure you aren’t sweating or still bright fucking red.

And nearly drop the next load.

In the minute you take to compose yourself, he’s lounging at the bar. Maze gives you a wicked grin. Lucifer gives you a wicked grin. You are wrong about how far down the pit in your stomach goes. It was bottomless, as it turns out. _Omg Maze why. I thought you liked me._

Thank gods your shift is over after this. You can go home and die in a barrel of ice cream and shitty wine. And then call out of work sick for three days. Or, you know, forever. And move to the moon. Then die some more.

Box number three takes a literal eternity. You scoop it up with less professionalism than you started with on your first day. The jostled flowers inside waft a sickly sweet perfume. Snapdragons.

He’s _there_.

At the stack of boxes at the end of the bar, leaning casually. His height and presence lending more to his name than ever before. Dark eyes are watching you with intensity and intent.

He nods to his bartender. “You mind helping out the young lady, Maze?”

_Oh god oh god oh god oh god._

_I am so fired._

_And also dead. Fired and dead_.

Maze huffed and took over. She mutters something about ‘humans’ under her breath.

You're still holding the snapdragons. You gingerly set down them down on top of the others, managing to not physically melt into a puddle of dread. Looking anywhere but at him, you square the container up with the ones underneath.

“Now, dear, you look like you need a little break.” His voice is silk on satin.

You unwillingly drag your eyes up. He doesn’t seem angry. But the intensity of his eyes is otherworldly. You swallow down a dry throat. “I’m sorry.”

He's surprised and slightly concerned. “Whatever for?”

Your stomach lightens just a hair. Barely. “I, for, eye-fucking you for months?” Why in fucks name did you just say that? Well, you can’t get any less-fired at this point.

He laughs, and it's a genuinely delighted sound. It breaks the cloud of doom around you. A ray of sunlight peeks through.

“I’m quite used to it. It wouldn’t be a regular day on earth without it. I’m neglecting my duties - a pleasure to finally meet you,” His eyes rove down your blouse, where your tag normally hangs in the middle of your chest, but you forgot it today. “Lucifer Morningstar.” He offers his hand, and you’ve forgotten your own name. You take his hand. It’s warm.

“Hello.”

He waits expectantly for a heartbeat.  “Well, hello, Hello.” the wicked grin is back, and maybe you aren’t going to die in a tub of ice cream tonight. Maybe. “Maze mentions you might want to do more than just eye-fuck me.”

_Nope, I was wrong. Definitely dead._

Lucifer leans into your space. “Why don’t _you_ tell me what you want?” His voice has gone from satin to black velvet. His deep brown eyes capture yours and all you can do is look back, locked in place. His face fills your vision, a hint of cologne stealing in.

Your breath catches. “I want to graduate and own my own business.” You breathe out, “Andmorethaneye-fuckyou.”

“A woman of several goals. I like it.” His entire body radiates desire. “I’m available to assist with at least one of those, immediately.” The velvet tones soar through your soul. Everything within you is hot and tight.

A quip dies in your throat. He’s too close. He’s not close enough. His face is rough and soft. His free hand slides around your waist, low on your back. Who could ever turn this man down? You try to make a sexy noise, but it comes out as a squeak.

His laugh and breath are warm on your ear. “Is that an acceptance of my offer?” Your skin is awash in goosebumps.

“Yes.”

“Lovely.”

And now you’re in an elevator, being kissed within an inch of your life by an absurdly handsome man with a Devil complex. The dress slacks hide nothing and you’re wrapped up in his arms. Anyone else, you’re sure you wouldn’t give into this. You feel his desire for you like a physical thing, and not only through his erection against your hip.  

The head fantasy is not nearly this good.

Lucifer doesn’t care you’re in your work attire. He’s very interested in getting you out of it. Work. Shit. You almost don’t care. Almost. Fuck. You pull back, “My boss-”

He’s amused again. “Will be told I needed you, just a little longer. Which I do.” He lightly touches your face, then ear and pulls your ponytail elastic at the bottom of your braid out with an easy motion. His spread fingers smoothly come to rest on the curve of your ass.

Like every lover before you, you resolve to get a look at his apartment later.

The tail of your shirt is pulled out of your slacks, his smooth hands riding up under it and sending shivers down your spine to meet them. His lips and breath and pressure and oh my god, pleasantly prickly stubble on your neck.

He smells wonderful _._ He’s tall, but you’re tall enough to nip his ear. He makes a pleased noise. “Tell me, what kind of naughty girl are you?”

Jesus Christ this is happening.

“I… named one of my toys after you.”

Everything about him positively lit up with pleasure. “Really.” He dragged his word out, making it both a statement and a question. The firm hardness pressing through clothes twitches against you.

You attack his shirt buttons, silk coming apart under your fingers. In for a penny, in for a- “For butt stuff.”

Lucifer makes a deep noise of appreciation. “Lucky me.” There absolutely no trace of sarcasm in his voice, and he’s purring against your lips between words. “I might have something in my collection, if you wish to add it to the party.“ electric hands sweep up under your bra band, thumbs just brushing the underside of your breasts. Open mouth and hot tongue give you time to contemplate an answer if your brain is still functional.

_This might be another casual lay for him, but dammit I am going to make myself memorable._

Playboy or not, he wants to get clear signals. “I’d like that.”

His fuck-me-eyes grin down at you. “What else would _you_ like?” Elegant hands and fingertips are shy of your nipples, cupping you under your bra and he knows you want it. You're peaked against the friction of your bra. You make a throaty noise.

The silky shirt slips free of his trousers, and you’re half aware the things probably cost more than your entire wardrobe. Buttons come undone, and you wak  _him_ backward a few steps into the arm of a couch. You run your hands down his chest, to the fastener on his slacks. “I’d like to taste you. Now.”

Lucifer groans into your neck, “Whatever the lady wants.” You shrug out of your shirt. Long fingers finally pinch your nipples, then one hand slips back around to pop your bra clasp. His hands on you cause you to falter in your mission. He knows exactly how he’s affecting you, lips smiling into your clavicle, his scruff chasing down one hand while the other has your pants half off your ass. He’s tracing the lace edge of your panty line just outside your center. You’re damp.“You sure you don’t want to be first?”

“Shush.” You’re enjoying being in charge for this.

You kick your pants off and sink to your knees. Your breasts out of reach, Lucifer reaches into your tidy hair and takes out your french braiding, a lock at a time. It’s incredibly distracting and he touches a spot behind your ears that make you go a little cross-eyed. You must have made a pleasure noise because he comes back to that spot after finger combing your hair into loose waves. Does he ever _not_ have sultry eyes? “I’m very much looking forward to my turn to fuck you into my mattress.”

Growling, you get his trousers and belt off, the low black silk boxers tenting in a way that looked a little uncomfortable. You nibble and lick along the ligament that runs from his upper hips to happy trail. The devil makes a noise and clenches fingers your hair. His arousal for you is intoxicating.

“I intend to earn it.”

Thank the gods you wore sexy panties today. You know he has a lovely view of you from above. You lean forward and press your lips and cheek into the side of his erection, slipping your fingers under the loose legs of Lucifer’s boxers. You mouth him through his undergarments, and he takes one hand out of your hair to brace himself on the couch.

Ha.

You grant him mercy, slipping down his silky boxers. Lucifer shuffles off his shirt, looking very devilish indeed, naked and quite shameless about it. It’s incredibly sexy.  His nude frame is lean and hard. You greedily lick his hips down to the base of his erection and utterly ruin whatever lipstick is left on him. His eyes reflect a little red light from somewhere.

He breathes in when you take him in your mouth with long strokes of your tongue. You think he knows you’re getting off on this a little too. More than a little. There’s a way a man reacts, and a way a man _reacts_. Your mouth lubricates him, you add two fingers joining your lips in a slow rhythm. He tightens his fist in your hair and you moan permission and tighten your lips around him in response.

You peek up, the angle just a little awkward because of his height and...heft. You smile around his hot cock and draw back just a little bit, breathing on his tip. His hips chase after your mouth. He's delicious.

Lucifer works out the question you want to ask. “My refractory recovery time is legendary.”

“Mmmmm.” it had better be.

He laughs lowly as if he heard your thoughts. You switch up your speed and add suction, careful with your teeth. You weren't expecting him to be uncircumcised and it's different. You relax your throat and take him deeper, adding a third gripping finger to surround his length. You work your tongue around him on the pull back, listening to his breathing. You peek up again, his dark eyes on you, his knuckles tight on the couch. You hum on his cock from your throat and change speeds again to a smooth pumping pull, not too fast, not too slow. Your other hand moves to his perineum, applying a little pressure, careful with your fingernails.

Lucifer utters a warning moan. How polite. You grab his ass with your free hand in case he decides to pull away. He doesn't. He comes in sticky hot pulses over your tongue and lips and sinks gratifyingly against the couch. He even tastes sweet. He's still hard under your fingers.

“My turn.” His wicked grin is back.

There’s that brief red reflection again, maybe, and he _swoops_ you up over his shoulder from the floor, breasts against his back. You squeak ungracefully. Lucifer dumps you on his bed and pounces, kissing hard, heedless of his taste on your wet mouth. You return it, bucking up against his hips. His weight against your body is hot and holds you down. Hands reapplying grip to your breasts and nipples. You bite your lips and moan. He wasn’t kidding, his cock still very hard against you, slick from your mouth. “Toy drawer?” You smile slyly, hoping he remembered. Heat pooling in your groin begging for attention.

“In a minute, love." That sexy purr in his voice is back, in your neck.

Lucifer hooks deft fingers under your panty band and they’re gone in a breath, replaced by his lips, lightly biting your outer edges before adding his tongue to explore you. He gives you the same treatment, watching you writhe under him. He’s smiling into you, finding your pulse, then holding his lips and tongue _there_ against you. Just for a moment.

His eyes find yours, watching your face with endless amusement as he slows his tongue to a heart-stopping crawl, slipping a finger inside of you. Your hand finds his hair, demanding ravishment. He adds a second, sliding slowly inward up to his knuckles. You have entirely given up on the coy bit entirely, body tense and responsive, your wetness mingling with his saliva.

Lucifer flicks his hot tongue on your clit.

“OH JESUS.”

He lifts his face from your needy vag. “Really?” His fingers flex but don’t withdraw. Yet.

“You are a terrible person.”

He raises an eyebrow with a mixture of amusement and annoyance, but it’s a razor edge. _Oh, he knows *exactly* what he’s doing. And apparently, this is the hill he’s going to die on too._

“Fine, Satan. I’m sorry. I promise I won’t call out the wrong deity again.”

“I prefer ‘Lucifer.’ Are you going to swear to that? I’ve spent a great deal of eternity at practicing punishment.”

 _What the hell. He’s earning it._  “Okay, I swear. You can spank me if I do it again.” You're sure there's a whine in your voice at this point. 

“Oh, there’s a dilemma. Which name am I hoping for now?” He either pretends to or does consider the question, then shrugs and puts his face back where it belongs with renewed attention. His five o’clock shadow presses into you, warm and prickly and lovely.

His ass is quite the view from this angle. There’s a good argument to be made for black bed sheets with his long-boned, flexible body silhouetted by shiny satin. His lean frame settles in, one warm hand under your hips, the other picking up pace, fingers curling and seeking your internal spot.

You are not going to last long. Satan is clearly an expert at this, drawing your sensations up and out with skillful muscle movements. Urging you to tilt your hips just so without words. You hook your ankles over his long toned back and part of your brain registers brushing against matching rough patches of skin on Lucifer’s shoulders.

Instinctively you adjust your legs off of his upper back and put the thought away. He doesn't comment, but his shoulders relax when you move your calves.

His tongue drags between his fingers and back, hot lips and mouth sucking with precision. His jaw is going to leave scruff burn on your thighs. Lucifer spirals your need, dragging you up to your peak, flexing fingertips to your pulse. The universe comes to a heavy pause, the moment before he makes you come for him. Then chases you over it as you spasm hard pulses against his tongue. “Oh, God-fuck-damn-Satanifer.”

And then again.

Satisfied desire wars with still being extraordinarily turned on, and a renewed need for him to be in you.

You are boneless. You have no bones. Your hearts’ pulse echoes in your head and clit and starts to subside like waves of the ocean. Lucifer’s thumb is riding out your receding orgasms. He's pleased with himself. And he should be. “I suppose you don’t deserve a _thorough_ spanking.”

“Mrglmm?”

“You mostly recovered at the end there.”

Oh right. Satanifer. Hah.

He rises from between your thighs like a prowling lion, on all fours to come up and kiss you lightly. Other women seem to find tasting themselves to be a turn on. You wrinkle your nose. He takes the hint and nibbles your neck instead. Mmmm. The warm, scratchy stubble generates tingles up to your scalp.

Skillful hands roam your body, waiting patiently, peaking your nipples and moving on. You’re slick with his saliva. Your brain comes around and helpfully reminds you of his earlier promise.

Your wicked grin comes back. “Condoms?”

Little packets are swiftly produced. “Do you have a preferred position, lovely?”

“I believe ‘fuck me into the mattress’ was mentioned?”

“How do you want me?” Lucifer is touching the spot behind your ear again.

“With a dick that size? You’ll plow into my cervix.” You make a pretend sad but hopeful face.

“I get to sub in for your me-named device?”

You have the brain power back to be coy again. “If you’re up for it.”

Lucifer delighted face hasn’t changed a bit. “You shouldn’t be surprised at what the Devil can be up for. Or capable of.”

The toy box is tidy for being so full of delicate and indelicate items. You pick out a small-ish vibrator and snug it up in a condom, testing the settings. You find a good one and lay face-down flat, the toy positioned inserted with a nub against your clit. You wiggle a bit to test it.

This isn’t your usual ‘first-time’ sex. This is Lucifer, so it’s probably your ‘only time.’ He seems to know what he’s doing. You’re a little nervous, but he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. He even switches to a glove for the first part. Either sensing your mild tension or having done this before. A lot.

You look back, “The Devil must have quite a sinful history.”

Generous amounts of lube coat his gloved fingers. You’re able to relax almost immediately as Lucifer starts with gentle outer manual stimulation. The low vibrations under your pelvis are helping nicely.  A moan escapes your throat when he adds a finger to you. His now jacketed head lines up under his skilled fingers and you push your ass back a little in search of pressure.  

“The world would be a lot more boring without sin.” He smiles to himself. “It’s especially nice when humans feel a lot less guilty about the fun, harmless misnamed as such kinds.” He leans over your back, replacing the fingers with the tip of his cock. You both breathe in. “Like this.” He purrs.

Lucifer is hot and slick and _hard_. He enters without much resistance and fills you, slowly but firmly, over a few minutes, pausing every inch or so to relax around him and accept him. “And the vibrator is nice too.” You almost forgot about the low buzz, but it penetrates your hips and he can feel it through your walls. He experimentally rocks against your hips. There's enough lube, even with him nearly fully in.

“You can go harder.”

"I know.”

He starts a slow back and forth, teasing you with his length and tightly controlled motions. You’re about to feel the need to ask for more, and he responds before you do, pushing down and in, hard to the hilt. Hands grip the back of your shoulders and the bed, bracing himself and you both surrender to the rhythms. Lucifer gives another experimental move, with a hard and quick buck.

You gasp and attempt to arch up in return, but the satin sheets don’t provide much friction, so you find something to hang onto instead.

You know he’s smiling without looking back. You can hear it in his low voice. “How’s that for you?”

“Yes.” His full length buries in you, and you can feel his pulse though your ass entrance.

“Yes, what?”

You growl. “Yes, please. Lucifer. Fuck me. Hard.”

He fucks you into the mattress. His length is hard and hot and the friction between you is perfect. You want it to last, but you also don’t. You clench your ass around him, and get a nice moan from him.

His body is low over yours, voice hot in your ear. "You can be loud, if you want." His hips and fuzz and taut abs and chest are against your back. Prickly hot five o'clock shadow digs into your neck. His hands are on your shoulders, gripping. Your sweat between you sticks a little, sucking his firm everything closer to your back.

He finds your peak again, releasing one hand and working it around and under your hips to brush your clit directly. You keen and buck hard under him and come six ways from Sunday with hard, tumbling pulses under his delicate fingers and around his cock. You let yourself be loud. " _Lucifer._ "

Lucifer rides you out and reaches his peak again not long after you. You’re breathless, but you aren’t sure if he’s even breathing hard. His cock is still throbbing wonderfully with his body's pulse, even through the barrier.

It’s glorious. You really don’t care what he calls himself anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> This particular POV was inspired by another Lucifer Fic I found called "Deepest Desire". The OP is no longer on the site, so I can't credit them directly but it's been inspirational. I don't really dig the (Y/N) thing, so I work around it. The story itself is mine.


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